


ethereal

by jaqhad (kyrilu)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dancing, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Music, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/jaqhad
Summary: The First Order didn't teach Finn how to dance.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 202





	ethereal

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Resistance Reborn. (Not timeline compliant, rip. see: Allegiance and Galaxy's Edge.)
> 
> The title is taken from The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan:
>
>> ethereal, adj.  
> You leaned your head into mine, and I leaned my head into yours. Dancing cheek to cheek. Revolving slowly, eyes closed, heartbeat measure, nature’s hum. It lasted the length of an old song, and then we stopped, kissed, and my heart stayed there, just like that.

Poe wore his love around his neck, his mother’s ring, light and silver.

Shara Bey wore it the same way, the necklace tucked underneath her jumpsuit: _It’s what we pilots do, Poe -- we wear our rings above our hearts. We don’t want our fingers caught on the controls or ship machinery, even if we usually wear flight gloves._

When they got married, Snap and Karé exchanged identical rings crafted by a Resistance mechanic who had recently gotten married herself. Peet Deretalia said that she owed BB-8 a favor and was willing to help any friends of his – and so the two Black Squadron pilots wore matching gold bands on chains around their necks. When Snap and Karé were out of uniform on the ground, they displayed them above their shirts and jackets, exposed and gleaming, proud of their bond and of each other.

Sometimes Poe looked at them and thought – _I wish –_ but that was a fleeting thought. After all, he was focused on leading, flying, and fighting. The galaxy was at war, and perhaps, later, there would be time for happiness, peace, and love, but not now, and certainly, not for him.

* * *

The Resistance’s new base on Ajan Kloss was still undergoing construction. Many of its members still slept in newly purchased or acquired ships that had beds, or in tents if they were willing to tolerate the jungle moon’s weather.

Rey loved Ajan Kloss’ rainstorms, and she had made herself a little shelter in the trees so she would be closer to the sky. Poe thought she was crazy, but that was Rey for you.

Anyway – the base. They prioritized the creation of a hangar to protect the ships from water or condensation damage, or any of the native animals that might get too destructive. Poe supervised the pilots and mechanics and occasionally went on supply runs or recruiting runs, so he spent most of his time in the hangar when he wasn’t conferring with General Organa and the other officers.

The autojuke appeared almost out of nowhere.

At first, Poe barely registered its appearance. There had merely been the raucous sounds of tools clanging or whirring, pilots and techs talking, droids beeping or humming, ship engines powering up.

Then, there was music.

Sometimes it was cheery deva pop or smooth jatz. That was most of the technicians’ favorites, as they busied themselves fixing and modifying ships for hours on end, humming or whistling out loud.

Sometimes it was droid tunes chosen by the astromechs, or, disconcertingly, Herglic rage-metal. Everyone thought that Teza Nasz was responsible for the latter – “It sounds like the deranged chanting from her death pits!” Jess said– but it turned out to be Pacer Agoyo’s choice.

Well, every teenager has a Herglic rage-metal phase, Poe thought, amused, as Pacer fervently defended his favorite holobands to an annoyed technician.

(It wasn’t like Poe hadn’t listened to some rage-metal during his spice-running days, until Zorii called him an edgy karking try-hard.)

One evening, Poe went into the hangar, searching for BB-8.

Most of the Resistance was eating dinner outside. Chewbacca had gone hunting in the forest and cooked up a seasoned meat dish. Even though everyone only received a small portion, the Resistance members were excited to eat something that wasn’t just the usual rations. You learned to appreciate the little things in life when you were in the Resistance…

So, Poe was surprised to find Finn in the hangar, crouched over the autojuke and arguing with BB-8. Poe had thought that Finn would’ve been first in line for dinner, since he always jumped at the chance at eating better food. In fact, Poe had assumed that Finn had already grabbed his share and was eating dinner with Rey in her treehouse.

“No, not more droid music,” Finn was saying. “It’s all clicks and whistles and I don’t get it. How about we play something else?”

“You’re missing out on some good food,” Poe said. “What’s up, buddy?”

Finn straightened. “Hey, Poe. Yeah, I just wanted to mess with the juke a bit, when no one else is around.” He looked a little embarrassed, and it was an endearing look on him, a sheepish grin on his face and his hand behind his head.

Poe leaned against the autojuke. “What kind of music do you like?”

BB-8 let out a couple of chirps.

“What?” Poe said, looking at Finn in disbelief. “What does Beebee mean, you don’t know?”

“I didn’t exactly have access to a wide range of music when I was growing up,” Finn said. Poe winced and was about to apologize, until Finn noticed the look on his face and added hastily, “I wasn’t living on a deserted asteroid, Poe, I still listened to music. I mean, we were technically allowed to hear some First Order and old Imperial propaganda anthems, and I had squadmates who were expert slicers. I’ve heard some pirated songs. You know, top annual hits on the HoloNet or whatever.”

“And you’re asking Beebee-Ate to help you catch up on musical culture?”

“It’s not like I can ask Rey,” Finn said, with a shrug. “Er, she’s a great friend, but she grew up in the desert, and she’s busy reading Jedi books and training with the general right now. It’s a stupid little thing, because we’re the Resistance, and we’re busy and have other priorities…”

“The Resistance is allowed to listen to music,” Poe said, barking out a laugh. “We’re not on a mission, and you know that mechanics and pilots and droids play the autojuke here all the time. Let me show you.”

And he did.

Fiddling with the autojuke, Poe played the smazzo music that his dad liked. He played the Core Drive songs that he grew up listening to, catchy jaunty songs that he’d blasted while flying his mother’s A-wing. And even the rage-metal—

“You listen to this stuff?”

“When I was a kid,” Poe said, flushing.

“That’s a lot of screaming. It sounds like a bantha being stabbed by a lightsaber, and it’s shrieking loudly while it’s dying.” Finn mimed being stabbed in the abdomen, which, honestly, shouldn’t be something to joke about considering what happened with Kylo Ren on Starkiller base, but… well, that was Finn, and Poe was the same. Dark humor for dark days.

“That stung, buddy,” Poe said, clasping his hand over his chest. “Savage Sarlacci were pioneers of the genre. But like I said, I was just a kid.”

“ _Lies._ Filthy lies,” said a voice, and Suralinda sauntered up to them with a sharp-toothed grin. “I’m fact-checking that statement. Poe, you were absolutely still listening to Savage Sarlacci during our Navy days, and everyone hated you for it.”

“Maybe once or twice! But, c’mon—"

Finn gave Poe a teasing pat on the shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s, uh, exciting music.”

“Very exciting,” Suralinda said. “So exciting that Poe accidentally relayed it across our comms during a flight exercise. He seems like such a dashing and dignified commander now, but—"

“Sura,” Poe groaned, while Finn perked up, intrigued.

There were just some things that Finn shouldn’t hear about Poe’s early days serving the New Republic. He had been one of its best pilots – he was eager to return to duty and everything that he had learned in flight academy – but his smuggler past wasn’t too far behind him.

It was a bit of a culture shock, to say the least.

“Fine, I won’t embarrass you,” Suralinda said, with a wink. “Hey, Commander, me and the rest of the old Black Squadron crew were wondering where you ran off to. You promised us a game of pazaak.”

“I got sidetracked,” Poe said. He gestured to the autojuke. “Finn was wondering what tunes the galaxy has to offer.”

“Oh, right, stormtrooper,” Suralinda said.

“ _Ex_ -stormtrooper,” Finn corrected, pointedly.

“Exactly.” Suralinda reached out to the autojuke. “Have you heard this one? It’s kind of sappy, but it’s a classic.”

The opening glissando notes were slow and soft. It was an old song – a romantic ballad – and it was the type of song that Poe associated with his grandfather, who would have gone teary-eyed and mouthed every word.

Suralinda started swaying by herself. Then she stopped and exclaimed, “Jess! Dance with me.”

“ _Suralinda, you can’t dance,_ ” Jess said, as she entered the hangar. “This is where the party’s at tonight? I thought we were supposed to play pazaak on Grakkus’ ship.”

Snap and Karé were trailing behind her. Snap lit up and said, “This is my Aunt Shirene’s favorite song!” He held out his hand to Karé. “Shall we, babe?”

She smiled at him, indulgent and fond, and took his hand.

Suralinda was still swaying, gangly blue limbs and shifting hips. It wasn’t as bad as her performance on Ikkruk when they had to pull her offstage, drunk and singing offkey, but her coordination was still awkward.

Jess had an expression of utter exasperation and dismay on her face. “Sura, what the pfassk. Let me just---let me show you.”

“I thought you would never ask,” Suralinda said.

Beebee-Ate extended his tiny flame in encouragement and spun in a circle.

It was a strange sight, but it was incredible. Poe couldn’t help smiling as Snap and Karé twirled in each other’s arms, ridiculous lovebirds, while Jess straightened Suralinda’s posture and adjusted her body into a passable form as they pivoted.

“We are the Resistance,” Poe said, grinning. “And, apparently, we dance.”

Finn’s eyebrows were raised high, incredulous, but he was clearly amused, too. Then he admitted, “I don’t know how to dance,” and it was that same awkward embarrassment again. “The First Order didn’t have that in our basic training.”

Poe snorted. “Suralinda doesn’t know how to dance, either.”

Finn gave Poe a sideways glance. “I feel like it’s something I should learn. In case we ever have to infiltrate a fancy high society party ever again.”

The mission in Coronet City, Poe thought with startling clarity. He remembered Finn wearing that dapper white suit. He remembered looping the tie around Finn’s neck, his fingers careful, and it would have been so easy to touch Finn’s face, to tip his chin up, looking into his dark eyes—

 _Shut up,_ Poe told his brain. He swallowed, and he tried not to think how handsome Finn looked _now_. Even if he wasn’t wearing a suit, as always, he wore Poe’s jacket well, and there was a flush coloring his cheeks.

Before he could stop himself, Poe said: “I can teach you. Like you said. If we need to go undercover for a party for the Resistance again. Dancing’s… useful.”

And he was reaching out – he was curling his hand around Finn’s back, gently pulling him away the autojuke – and Finn’s hand was warm.

Finn let Poe lead. One hand intertwined in Poe’s, one hand on Poe’s shoulder. Poe demonstrated the steps and the turns, while Finn followed.

Finn was a fast learner. He concentrated on putting his feet in the right places, and he counted the beats underneath his breath – “ _one two three, one two three_ ” – like it was a battleplan to memorize. They were moving in sync with the music, the lyrics treacly and sentimental, the singer crooning, _I’m with you among the stars_ , _you are my one and only love--_

“Gods,” Poe said, helplessly, “you’re amazing.”

He didn’t just think this about Finn, he knew it.

And Finn blinked, and there was that flush again. “Hey, it’s just dancing.”

“It’s your first dance,” Poe said. “Give yourself some credit.”

“It’s thanks to you showing me,” Finn said. He took a deep breath. “Is it okay if I ask you something?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“You wear a ring around your neck,” Finn said, and he touched the chain with his fingers. “Like Snap and Karé.”

It had slipped out from underneath his shirt, the glint of silver. Poe glanced down at the ring, thought of what it meant to him, and smiled. “Yeah.”

Finn froze for a second. Eventually, he pushed on and said: “I know this is personal, private, so you don’t have to tell me. But are you married – or engaged – or whatever people in the galaxy do when they have rings?”

Poe stared. “No, I’m not. This is my ma’s wedding ring, and she left it to me when she passed. I guess… I’m hoping to give it to the right person one day.”

“Sorry to hear about your mother," Finn said, his tone sober. "So you haven't found anyone yet...?"

“It’s just been missions. Our Resistance against the First Order.” He shrugged and gave Finn a small smile. “Not all of us luck out like Snap and Karé and find our perfect partner in our squadron. You told me earlier that nothing happened on your end with Rey and Rose.”

Not that he expected for ‘nothing’ to happen for long, Poe thought. He knew that Finn spent a lot of time with Rey, sitting with her in her treehouse and talking, and they seemed like a good match.

“I like dancing with you,” Finn said, suddenly.

“Same with you, pal. You’re ready to infiltrate the next party like you’re born royalty.”

“Dense,” Suralinda said, as she and Jess twirled by. “Denser than the mines of Mustafar.”

“What?” Poe said.

“Poe,” Finn said, quietly, hurriedly, a tumult of words, “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. You’ve been looking at me all this time and it would make sense if you were the one who told me, but I didn’t even figure it out until recently, and you’re still just… looking. And—I _know_ you’re practically married to duty and responsibility and making up for what happened with the _Raddus_ and losing the fleet, but I was involved, too –“ He stopped to take a breath, and then continued, “And I think in the Resistance, even if terrible things have happened, are still happening, we’re allowed to feel. Just like we’re allowed to dance and listen to music.”

Poe didn’t know what to say. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and they weren’t dancing any more, even though Suralinda had put on another melodramatic love ballad.

“You like me,” Finn said. "For a long time, I think, and I didn’t see it. And it’s _okay_ , really—”

“It is?” Poe said, wonderingly.

“It’s fine,” Finn said, with a lopsided smile. “It’s all right. Me, too.” He leaned forward, and then, hesitantly, pressed their foreheads together, and they were dancing again, swaying, and Poe closed his eyes and he _felt._

Later, Poe would walk with Finn outside the hangar, and he would kiss Finn underneath the trees and underneath the stars as the warm rains fell on Ajan Kloss. Laughing, drenched, and gasping, the silver ring like a fiery spark against his heart.

For now, they danced.


End file.
